Standing Beside Me
by Buroo
Summary: Sequel to Green, hopeless romance. Wade wants to belong, but can he give himself over to someone else? Slightly AU, slash fiction. Warning: contains slash and vulgar language
1. Chapter 1

Authors Notes:

Hello readers! Yes, it's been a long time, and yes, the pen name is different, but it's still me!

And so begins the Green sequel. I got such fantastic feedback, and I loved the pairing so much I couldn't let them go so easily. I changed Wade a little. I made him less... predatory. I hope you don't mind. Love reviews, thanks so much for reading!

Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, nor is any money being made through this production. But... if anyone wanted to hand them over to me for safekeeping... I would take very good care of them.

* * *

I woke up with a start. Chest heaving, pulse pounding... wiping sweat off my brow. Another one. Another one atop the hundreds of others. Another dream- about him. Not a bad dream. No, my dreams about him are never bad. Matter of fact, most people would look forward to dreams like this.

Sexy dreams, with sweaty sheets and hot bodies, he gasps for air but I don't let him get it, pulling him down again.

I don't mind the dreams themselves. It's the waking up and turning over and staring into his face as he lies, still asleep.

Green eyes hidden behind pale lids and blonde lashes.

Waking and realizing that my dreams are just that. Dreams.

I've slept with him before, of course. I've experienced first hand those sweaty sheets and that heat building from the inside out.

But in my dreams, _he_ kisses _me_. They're so underestimated those moments of locked lips, but they can mean so much. And of course, I've kissed him before and tasted the whiskey lingering in his mouth, but it was just a prelude of what was to come. Merely an opening ceremony for a more passionate endeavor. It meant nothing. I just wanted to get him in the mood.

But at night, he reaches for me, timidly looking from my eyes to my mouth, hands shyly flitting across the hem of my shirt. At night, his mouth searches out mine, and with familiar chapped lips and breath that tastes like cheap alcohol he proclaims,

"I love you". And I see in his eyes that he means it.

At night, I belong to someone.

Sometimes it's hard being a leader. Hell, it's hard being a leader all the time. Everyone looks to you to take care of them. _Tell me what to do_, they say, _and I'll do it_. But doing whatever "it" is isn't that hard. When something goes wrong,_ I_ gotta fix it and_ I_ gotta punish whoever screwed up. The world's on my shoulders and I gotta hold it up for as long as it rests on me. And you know what- sometimes my shoulders get sore. But I'm Ben Wade and nothing's supposed to get me down.

But sometimes it does. I hide it, of course. No one knows. I glanced at Charlie lying next to me, breathing slowly and rhythmically all cares forgotten as he dreams of... something. Maybe the next job, or the home he left God knows how long ago... or of women. Beautiful women that beckon to him with smoldering eyes, patting the bed they sit on. But I'm just feeling sorry for myself. How I managed to fall in love with Charlie- with a man for God's sake- I'll never know. But it doesn't matter. It'll never matter cause I'll never tell him and he'll never know and one day I'll realize how stupid I've been- that I don't really love him. That I never really loved him. It was just loneliness and the desert heat that brought this about. Men don't love other men. Men don't lust after their companions. The Bible says men like that burn in hell.

Not that hell can be much better than this life.

I groaned and stretched my arms out over my head, squinting out at the horizon and the slight pink of the sky. The sun was going to rise soon. We should be heading off. Off where? We don't have a job lined up yet... not that we need the money. We hit it big after the last coach turned out to be much pricier than it looked. I let my eyes wander to Charlie again, drinking in the sight. The few traces of pale morning sunlight reflected off his skin making him glow, throwing the shadows on his face into sharp relief, accentuating his cheek bones and bridge of his nose... the dip right below his lower lip, above his chin.

At that moment, I don't think that beautiful was the right word. Or was handsome or alluring. Charlie Prince was bewitching, in every sense of the word. I scanned the other members of my crew. All dead to the world, more than one clutching an empty bottle to their chest. I gave in to temptation and let my fingers trip across the sleeping Prince, brushing hair off his forehead, stroking his cheek, tracing his lower lip... and then I pulled back harshly as he murmured something and stirred slightly out of sleep. I leaned nonchalantly against the rock behind me, clasping my hands together in my lap and stared out across the horizon- the perfect picture of a man lost in calm thought. But I wasn't calm. My heart was beating out of my chest and it took everything I had to silence my raspy breaths. Almost caught- I need to be more careful next time. Next to me Charlie sat up and stretched his arms and twisted. I could hear his back popping back into place after a night of sleeping on craggy ground.

He spoke without looking at me. It wasn't harsh, or impersonal- that's just how our conversations generally went, looks exchanged only when words were unnecessary or impossible to find.

" 'S gunna be a good couple of months."

I knew he was talking about our newfound wealth. I nodded. "We spend wisely, it could be a good year." He nodded. I glanced at him sideways.

"Bunch a' the boys are fixin' to head down to Mexico. Find themselves some... entertainment." We both knew what that really meant. There were plenty of beautiful women to occupy their time. "You plannin' to join 'em this time?"

His jaw stiffened, probably remembering what happened the last time he chose to stay with me rather than join the rest of the crew.

_Crumpled, sweaty sheets, harsh breathing, finger shaped bruises along his arms, wrists, and inner thighs._

"You want some time alone, boss?"

I was surprised at the bitter tone that colored his voice. He tried to hide it, of course, but I could always read Charlie like a book. He wore his emotions on his sleeves and in his eyes... and God Almighty did I like looking into his eyes.

_Green eyes fogged with lust gazing up at me from the bed. _

"No need to get all defensive, Charlie. Just askin' a question."

He nodded tightly. "Is this one o' those questions I could get wrong?"

"No Charlie. I don't quite understand why you're so worried about it."

I've lied before. All men have. But that lie was different simply because it was so much _more_ false than any lie I'd ever told before. Course I knew why he was worried. I treated him like a whore, and object, something to be used and then discarded. He deserved so much better. But I couldn't let him know that. I couldn't let him think that what I felt for him was anything but lust. Pure, unadulterated, lust. He needed to think that I was craving entertainment and, bored with the usual feminine fare, decided for something more exciting. I played with him like a child plays with a toy. Oh, sure he wasn't complaining then, but the months afterwards gave him time to think about it, to realize what he'd done. What _I'd_ done to him.

I don't think he was pleased with what he realized.

And now, I was pretending like it never happened, and he was _pissed._ I could see it in the way his swallowed forcefully, his jaw clenched even harder than before. It's awful, to feel like you're worthless and it tortures me to have to put Charlie through it. But I can't tell him the truth. After a moment of tense silence he cleared his throat. "Well, sir, if it's all th' same to you, I'm not quite feelin' up to a trip south."

I tried very hard to keep the shock- and relief- off my face. I thought he'd be begging to get away from me. I waited until my voice was safely under my control before saying cooly,

"Alright then, Charlie. I ain't gunna force you to leave."

"But do ya want me to stay? I mean..." He paused "I mean, do ya mind my company?"

My heart skipped a beat. No, that's another lie. My heart skipped quite a few beats. _God no Charlie. I revel in your company, I soak it up like a plant does the sun. I want you with me always. I _need_ you. Dear God, Charlie, I _love _you! _

"Nope."

He nodded shortly and stood up, stalking over to the horses to get his bags in order.

The rest of the crew left the next morning for Mexico. Me and Charlie watched them go.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors Notes:

Drunk Charlie Prince = my favorite thing to write ever

Warning: Violence and language is introduced in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Characters not mine, nor is any money being made through this publication. Nor does this suggest any sort of relationship between Ben Foster and Russell Crow. (If I found out Foster was unavailable I'd die a little on the inside)

* * *

First things first- We found a bar. I made sure it was located in a small, but comfortable, town that had a less-than-adequate sheriff. Charlie lured the sheriff and his force out of area by running into their office, wide-eyed and terrified, shouting maniacally about a group of bandits nearby with murder in their eyes. It was going to take about two hours for the sheriff to make it to the location that Charlie described, another hour of searching around until he came to the conclusion that the bandits had run off, another hour or two of searching nearby areas, and finally, the sheriff would either realize he had been lied to or he would just give up the search. If they rode far enough out, it would take them three to four hours to get back to town again- and at night too. If I knew anything about small town sheriffs (and I happen to know a lot) he would decide to spend the night camping rather than risk the ride across "outlaw infested" lands.

That meant that Charlie and I would be undisturbed tonight.

The saloon cleared out when we walked in. The men probably didn't know who we were, but I guess they sensed an air about us that they didn't like. The woman tending to the bar looked petrified as we approached her. After she poured us our first drinks, I told her that she could go home. It was blatantly obvious that I meant she _should _go home. She got the hint and scurried out through the back.

I've only seen Charlie rip-roaring drunk once before. (Normally, he can hold his liquor even better than myself.) It was a long time ago- I don't remember an exact date- but it was one of his first times out with my crew. It wasn't the same crew, of course. Charlie's been with me practically since the beginning and he's been the only one to stick with me this long. This was another typical stagecoach grab, something I'd done dozens of times. But this time, one of my new recruits screwed up (at that time, though, all of my recruits were new). Michael, I think his name was, and he was tormenting the stagecoach driver; he'd pulled out his flask and was dousing the man in whiskey. Now Michael had always been fascinated by fear, by people's reactions when they were afraid. He got some sort of sick thrill when he was able to drive a grown man to horrified tears. It wasn't any different this time. After pouring his whiskey onto the driver, he struck a match and squatted down, holding it in front of the man's dripping face. Knowing Michael, I was sure he had no real intention of setting the driver on fire, so I let him be. Stupid. It was a stupid thing to do, letting him carry on like that.

A strong breeze picked up and the match flame flickered and jumped onto the poor man's hair.

We tried to put out the fire. I've never been one for long drawn out deaths; if I kill someone, it's going to be merciful and quick. But we couldn't save him. To this day, I've never heard a scream as gut-wrenchingly hellish as that one. I shot Michael with the man's screams in my ears and the stench of burning flesh polluting my nose. That night the rest of the crew went off to find comfort while Charlie stayed with me and drank.

And drank. And drank. I carried him to bed as he mumbled about thick sickly-sweet air, blistering, blackened skin, and eyes. Eyes surrounded by flames and heat and smoke. Eyes that slowly dulled as the life drained out of them. That was the first time I kissed Charlie. I laid him into bed as he thrashed around, tears trickling out of the corners of his eyes. I held his shoulders down to try and keep him still, but it was the words that were pouring out of his mouth that disturbed me. I didn't love Charlie as I leaned into him. I kissed him to stop the tidal wave of drunken ravings. He kissed me back forcefully, with tongue and teeth and lips. That night a lust, an attraction towards the younger man awoke in me, and over the years managed to twist itself into something much more serious. Love. Passionate, burning, fervid, _consuming_ love.

I watched Charlie again, as for the second time probably in his life, he drank too much. Last time I knew what he was trying to drown in the alcohol. But now, I wasn't so sure. I watched him as he poured glass after glass of whiskey, his eyes staring at the bottles lined up against the bar. It killed me to see him like that. I wanted to tear the glass out of his hand and throw it against the wall and watch it shatter. I wanted to draw him close and whisper into his ear that whatever it was, whatever was bothering him, it would turn out alright. I wanted to kiss him and murmur heatedly into his ear that I loved him and that I wanted to spend an eternity with him. But I couldn't.

I am Ben Wade. Scourge of the southwest, thief, killer,_ legend_.

And I'm Ben Wade. Frightened to admit his feelings to a drunken underling who wasn't going to remember anything in the morning anyway.

I knew Charlie had reached his limits when he started gasping. Whether he was fighting down nausea or tears or he needed to get extra oxygen to his liquor-drowned brain, I didn't know, but it didn't really matter anyway. I grabbed his arm, gently.

"C'mon Charlie. You're done."

He swiveled around to stare me straight in the face, beautiful green eyes flashing drunkenly.

"No. No."

"Yeah, you're done. Let's go. I'm takin' you t' bed."

"Yeah. I bety'are." I could barely understand him, with his words slurring together.

"What d'ya mean by that Charlie?"

He snorted and stumbled off his stool. I caught him before he hit the ground and he dragged himself up my chest until we were eye-level.

"Takin' m'ta bed." He snorted again. "Thas all'm good for, huh? _Bosss_." The last word was sneered and as cold as the piss drunk man could manage. And I understood.

"I'm not gunna touch ya Charlie. I'm just takin' ya to bed so you can sleep."

His eyes were fixated on mine and they were more probing than I would've thought possible.

"But'ya _wanna_. Dontcha Boss?" He leered up at me. "Y'ar jus' _dyin_' t' touch me, arncha?" His eyes suddenly showed pain. "Y-you jus' _touch_ me. It doesn' _mean _anythin' t'ya._ I _don' mean anythin' t'ya. G-_God_." His voice broke and his eyes raced between mine and my hands holding him up. He didn't seem to be able to focus on anything. "F-_Fuck_ boss."

It killed me to see him in such agonizing pain. And it tore me apart to see him fall like that, to see him break into tears. Charlie Prince, second only to me, crying. Sobbing, even. I gathered him into my arms and carried him upstairs and laid him in bed. I turned away, but only momentarily as I heard him whisper,

"What'd I do wrong?"

"What?"

How he managed to pull himself into a sitting position, only God knows.

"Why doncha love me?"

I couldn't say anything, I couldn't breathe; my heart seemed to be obstructing my airway.

"_What_?" I choked. He didn't hear me. He'd collapsed back onto the bed and was repeating over and over and over, "Don' love me. Don' love me" in a sing-songy, drunken voice. And then he passed out.

_Why doncha love me?_

I didn't sleep that night. I sat in bed next to him and stroked his hair, his neck, his lips until he stirred in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes:

Last Chapter! I know, it's a short story... but since when have my stories ever been anything but? And at least the chapters are half decent lengths. Anyways.

Warnings: More language and slash in this chapter. This is a mild M fiction, but there's still some slash there, so if it bothers you, please don't get mad if you don't heed my warnings.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money. The End.

* * *

If Charlie was hung over (and I _knew_ he was) he didn't show it. I didn't bother him and he didn't ask about anything the previous night. He probably didn't want to know.

_Why doncha love me? _

"We're gunna have'ta leave soon Charlie."

" 'F course boss."

We did the same thing again; found another town, set up in another bar. This time we didn't need to worry about the sheriff. I could smell the whiskey on him the second we stepped into the place.

I watched Charlie as he drank. I monitored the movement of his hand on his glass and his throat as he swallowed. He glanced at me nervously from time to time as he felt my gaze on him.

"Somethin' botherin' you boss?"

"...No, Charlie. Nothin' botherin' me."

He didn't buy it. I didn't really think he would. He ain't _stupid. _He finished his drink and toyed with the glass in his hand, tapping it against the bar. He glanced at me again. I knew he was trying to be subtle, but I wasn't going to allow a single motion go unnoticed.

"Am I makin' you nervous, Charlie?" He flinched at that.

'_Am I intimidatin' you Charlie?' ' Course not, boss.' A free room, a kiss, a man pinned against a wall, a gasp, a moan; two men writhing in a bed. _

"N-no boss." I knew that stutter well. I knew the twinge of fear that lay behind it. I've never understood that fear. Whenever the crew's with us, Charlie is my second in command. He respects me, he obeys me, but unlike many of the crew members, he shows no fear of me. He insists on being next to me when we ride, shows off in front of me to gain my attention and my praise. But as we sit together alone and drink, tension rolls off him like a man approaching the gallows.

Charlie didn't drink nearly as much as he had the previous night, but he was definitely tipsy and tripped on a couple stairs. I managed to snake my arm around his waist to help keep his balance. I noticed how Charlie stiffened as I clutched at him. He threw my arm off as we reached the door to our shared room and I heard him grumble, "I ain't some _damsel in distress _that needs_ savin_'."

I crossed the room and laid down on the bed, crossing my hands over my head and stared at the ceiling. Charlie sat down next to me but couldn't stay still, and jumped up and started pacing around the room, pausing momentarily to fiddle with something on the fireplace or to gaze out the window before resuming his course.

"Goddammit boss, what d'ya _want_?"

"Why, whatever do ya mean Charlie?" There was a hint of amusement in my voice. Not that I was amused, and I definitely wasn't laughing at him. It was just a tone Ben Wade would take in such a situation.

"Don't _play_ with me boss. I ain't some half-witted farmer who only knows you for your posters. You've been _studyin'_ me. Like you're _testin'_ me or somethin'. Just tell me whatcha want me to do and I'll _do_ it. But- but I gotta know whatcha _want_." He sounded almost desperate. _You, Charlie. I want you. I want you to belong to me. You say you can do anythin' I ask of ya. Could you do _that_? _

"Sit down Charlie. You're makin' me dizzy."

He stared at me for a second before slowly lowering himself on to the mattress next to me.

"Why didn't ya go t' Mexico, Charlie?"

"Wh-what?"

"Why'd you come with me, Charlie? Why didn't ya go t' Mexico?"

"I-I told ya, Boss. I jus' didn't feel like it."

"You'd probably be havin' more fun in Mexico than here in this room with me. Why'd you stay, Charlie?"

"God Boss. It ain't got nothin' to do with _fun_. I can't-"

"Can't what, Charlie? I thought you could do _anythin_'."

"I can't- _goddammit_- I can't stop thinkin' about you, boss! I _can't_... I can't _leave_ ya."

My heart was beating so damn loudly Charlie could probably hear it. It was everything I could do to keep a straight face. I raised myself onto my elbows so I could look at him better. He looked mortified and refused to meet my gaze. His face was a bright red and he mumbled something like "loyal to ya boss" into his shoulder. I sat up properly and closed the distance between us. Charlie's head jerked up and I smiled.

"Ain't that sweet of ya Charlie." And I kissed him. I love kissing Charlie. I love his taste and the feel of his skin. I love his reactions- the tilt of his head, the pliant opening of his mouth, and his moans. God I'd do _anything_ to get him to moan like that.

I pushed him down onto the bed and straddled him, pining him underneath me, without breaking our kiss. But Charlie had other ideas.

"St-stop!" He pulled away and squirmed out from underneath me, retreating to the headboard of the bed as I knelt over him. "What's the matter Charlie? I could've _sworn_ you liked this." And I licked the patch of skin under his ear, repressing a moan as I felt him shudder underneath me. But he pushed me away. I could feel my heart dropping... I could almost say it broke. _Why won't you let me get near you, Charlie? Why are you fighting me? _His piercing green eyes searched out mine.

"Why are you doin' this, boss?" His voice sounded pained. "I... I _need_ you. And you treat me like some... perverted _pet_. I'm used and discarded 'til you've got an itch that you need scratched. Is that all I mean to ya?"

This is it. The moment of truth. I love him. I_ love _Charlie. I've admitted as much to myself dozens of times. I've dreamt about this moment- the moment when he declares that he wants me... that he can't live without me. All I have to do now is tell him the truth. He's just fulfilled my wildest dreams and I can't bring myself to utter those three simple words. Why is this so hard? But I know. It's my damn pride. My role as a leader. I complain about it all the time, that leading people is so tough. If I tell Charlie the truth, I step down and we become equals... and I can't do it. He's staring at me so earnestly, green eyes speaking volumes of what he's feeling. Panic is dominant.

"I-I know that people couldn't know... 'bout us. I know what that'd do. But... I ain't askin' for much boss. Just... I just gotta know. If I'm just... If you just want my company every once in a while, I'll come to ya. I ain't gunna say no. I just... I need to know where I stand with you."

_Where I stand with you_.

Can I do it? Can I give up that position and let him stand next to me? Can I say no to this bewitching man and crush him just to maintain an authority? Can I trust him?

_I _need_ you. _

_Ah to hell with this._

And I cupped his face with my hands and touched his forehead with mine and I kissed him again. Slowly and passionately and I tried to convey every word I couldn't say into that kiss. _I love you. I need you. Stay with me forever. _

And he understood, gripping my waist and returning everything I gave him. We made love that night. I've never experienced anything like it. Every time he looked at me, something shot down my spine and made my toes curl. Giving him pleasure was infinitesimally more important than receiving it and I loved watching his eyes drift close and suddenly shoot open again. I loved the way he grabbed at me as I pounded into him, the way he licked his bottom lip and tipped his head back, exposing his neck. But it was how he moaned for me, his whimpers and gasps. And knowing that _I_ was the one causing it, that _I_ was the one he begged for, the only one he wanted was absolutely exhilarating. I memorized the sight as Charlie groaned out my name and arched up towards me as he finished. He was absolutely prepossessing.

I woke up in the morning, gripping Charlie's bare waist, my head buried in the curve of his neck. Mine. He was mine. And he'll be mine forever.

... And I'll be his.


End file.
